The pastel pink satin of your panties is taut over my straining erect penis. The soft, smooth cloth snuggles my penis and scrotum like your gently caressing hand. The thin cloth shows the outline of my semen-filled sack and my erection-stiffened shaft in perfect detail. Your panties are so tiny that in the wall mirror of our bedroom, I see my purple lust swollen penis head poking high above the top hem up my hairy belly almost as far as my navel.
I finger my hard penis through the thin cloth of your panties before I slowly slip them down my thighs and to the floor. My erect penis bounces out hard and hungry for you and swings stiffly above my thick bush of pubic hair. I remember the feel of your long smooth legs as I peeled these same panties off you just days ago, then the way you spread your legs for me to ruffle your pussy hair with my tongue and to kiss your vagina lips.
Just for fun, I hang your panties on my erect shaft. I smile at the memory of how you playfully pulled me by your panties wrapped around my cock from our lounge to our bedroom that time, as your willing sex slave. I let the flimsy garment fall, then pick them up and run their softness through my fingers. I love the underwear you wear: soft cotton; smooth, shiny satin; and above all, the sheer see-through lace you wear especially for me.
I lay naked on our bed, open the album of pictures we’ve collected over the years, and flick through the pages. There you are in your twenties, a fresh young blonde sprawled nude on that beach—young firm breasts, long tanned legs splayed wide, and lush brown pubic hair surrounding your so-hungry vagina. I turn to the pictures of you on a hotel bed, spreading your legs and thrusting your big breasts in nude poses that I can still hardly believe you would ever do for me, and I recall the unforgettable sex session that followed.
I turn to the most recent pictures. You’re mature now, your blonde hair darker, but your voluptuous body still so erotically exciting. I linger on the shots of you squatting naked but for red high heels on the kitchen table downstairs. You’ve swung big round breasts up and thrust them out, your legs strain wide, and my camera has zoomed in on your gaping fur-ringed vagina between your legs. In my mind, I relish how I had you bent over that table. I browse through lots, lots more.
As I browse our pictures, I rub your panties slowly over my hard penis, across my scrotum, back and forwards between my legs, remembering the feel of your fingers, your lips, your tongue, your pubic hair against me. I brush them over my face and smell your juices and your perfume. You wore it the last time we made love, a scent that clung to my body as I pressed against yours. Memories flood my mind of your naked body under mine on this very bed—your fingers clawing my back, your belly thrusting against mine, your legs wrapped over me, your animal-like grunts of pleasure as your climax rose, your heels pounding me in your orgasm climax. I wrap my thumb and forefinger around my shaft and gently squeeze and stroke as I savour the memory of your smooth wet tightness and warmth wrapped ’round my hard, hungry shaft.
I come to the picture of you taken from behind. You’re on all fours on a rug with your legs wide, your hairy pussy and vagina slit peeping between your thigh tops below your cheeky rounded bottom. Your big breasts hang pendulously, and your smooth buttocks gleam under the lights of our lounge. You’re looking at me over your shoulder with hunger burning in your dark eyes. That picture still strains my cock like no other, even after all the years.
My heart pounds as I remember taking that picture. My penis strains as I remember the feel of your pubic hair and moist vagina lips as I slid my hand between your spread legs from behind and pleasured your vagina lips and clit with my finger, just the way you like. Then that most erotic moment of all: your ululating, rising, climaxing orgasmic cry as your breasts bounced and your naked body juddered in your finger-fuck climax with my hand cupped over your throbbing, juice-sodden pussy mound. I close my eyes and can still hear that cry.
I want you! It’s time for sexual pleasure!
I lay on my back and spread my legs wide. In the wall mirror, I see my penis arching up from my thick bush of pubic hair over my belly. I finger my scrotum and groin on both sides, then reach between my legs to tickle my arse, the way you do when you kneel nude beside me to hand-job me. I remember your big breasts hanging over me, gently swinging; your legs, perfectly placed for my hand to play with and to caress your soft round bottom; your thighs, spread for me to run my fingers through your pubic bush. How I’d like to finger your pussy lips right now and reach up between your legs to tickle you in the valley between your cheeks while your expert hand pleasures my shaft. You like it so much when I do that for you, don’t you!
I oil my hand and my straining stiff penis with the cream you use when you give me a hand job. Then I wrap my fist around my penis shaft and begin to pump—smoothly, rhythmically, full length from my pubic hair to my cock head. I tug and stroke my foreskin for a moment before sliding my hand right up over my big round so-sensitive penis head and catching its basal ridge with the ring of my thumb and forefinger, just the way you do it for me. As I masturbate, I close my eyes and remember your breasts swinging above me with the rhythm of your smoothly pumping hand on my shaft and your spare hand lovingly caressing my naked chest and nipples.
“ Janet!” I grunt your name as I squirm my hips with my rising sex pleasure. “Want to fuck you hard!”
As the pleasure rises, I ease off, just making little strokes now with my thumb and forefinger in a ring, stroking across the ridge of my cock head as I hold my throbbing penis on the very brink of orgasm. The pleasure is almost unbearable! More memories flood into my mind: Your soft, smooth, warm thighs astride my face. My hands caressing your thighs and bum cheeks. Your pubic hair brushing my lips, and the smell and taste of your vagina juice in my nostrils and on my tongue. Your nipples brushing my belly as your breasts swing with the rocking of your body above me. Your hand between my legs, caressing my inner thighs. Your warm wet lips squeezing, sucking, and sliding rhythmically up and down my iron-hard shaft.
“Janet! Janet! … nggghhhh! … nggghhh! …. Ahhhhhh!”
My back arches up involuntarily, thrusting my hips toward the woman my body thinks is riding my pulsing, spurting penis. My cum sprays high up my chest and over my belly. I lie there, panting, savouring the memory of your body, and enjoying the last pulses of sexual pleasure in my still-half-erect penis. As my semen starts to trickle down my side, I wipe it off my penis, off my naked body, and out of my pubic hair with your panties.
I glance at the bedside clock—no time to lose. You will be back here with the kids in half an hour. After a last browse through pictures of you, a last lingering ogle of you on all fours, I close our album and carefully hide it away. I check the bed cover for semen splashes and smooth the bed so you’ll never know, though I’m sure you suspect. I reluctantly dress, then I toss your semen-soaked panties back into the laundry basket and await your return.
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